Matt, hi. Caitlin’s just finishing up processing a few new books; she’ll be out soon,” Ingrid said with what she hoped was a friendly smile.
The handsome detective nodded and took his usual seat at the bench across from the main desk. Ingrid felt as if she had blinked and when she opened her eyes, Matt and Caitlin were a couple. It happened so fast that she suspected Freya had slipped one of her now famous love potions in the lawman’s coffee. Her sister swore up and down that Matt had not been to the bar in a while; nor had she recently served Caitlin, who was one of those girls who got drunk after one glass of wine and was hardly a North Inn regular.
Ingrid tried to concentrate on the files in front of her, but knowing Matt was sitting right across from her made it difficult. If he had been something of a regular before, there was no escaping him now. Every afternoon he would appear at the library around five o’clock right on schedule. Sure, today was Thursday and the beginning of a holiday weekend, but still. Didn’t he have something better to do? How did he have so much time to spend lolling about waiting? Weren’t there crimes to solve? It had been more than six months since Bill Thatcher had been found dead on the beach, and the police had no leads. His wife, Maura, was still in a coma, which was too bad as she was the only witness to whatever had happened to them.
The detective’s constant presence was annoying, but not half as irritating as watching Caitlin get ready for her dates. The girl was in the back room, furiously slapping on blush and lipstick, telling everyone in earshot everything about her new relationship. Even Tabitha and Hudson had been pulled into the drama—Tabitha because she adored romance in all forms, and Hudson because he soaked up drama like a sponge. Ingrid had attempted to escape all the girly commotion only to find the lawman idling by the main desk.
She tried to pretend he wasn’t there, or that she was immune to his presence, which was difficult, as something about seeing him made her throat tighten and her body freeze so that she could actually see the goose bumps forming on her arm. Ingrid pulled her cardigan firmly together and tried not to shiver. She would not let him affect her this way. Ingrid was concentrating so hard on appearing indifferent that she did not register that someone was standing in front of the main desk until Emily Foster poked her in the shoulder. “Ingrid? Earth to Ingrid?”
“Emily! Sorry. I was . . .”
“Daydreaming.” Emily smiled and handed her a few books. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Lionel’s always gazing off into the distance.”
“How’s he doing?” Ingrid asked, glad for the distraction. From the corner of her eye she saw Matt tapping on his BlackBerry.
“Good. He’s good,” Emily said. “A little more absentminded than usual, but that’s probably because he’s busy working on a new series of paintings. They’re beautiful and haunted-looking, trails that lead nowhere, some kind of mountain with a silver gate. He hasn’t shown in New York in a long time and his gallery is very excited.”
“Good to hear; please tell him we say hello,” Ingrid said, handing Emily her stack of novels.
So far, after Lionel’s resurrection there had been nothing from the Council. No messages from the oracle, no indication that they had even noticed or cared. It was a bit unsettling, and Ingrid wondered if they had followed the rules too closely. If the Council didn’t care if the rules were broken, perhaps they should have used their magic a long time ago.
There were a few more patrons in line stocking up on books for the long weekend, which kept Ingrid busy. See, she wanted to shout to their pompous mayor, people still use the library—it was still relevant to daily life. There wasn’t much hope, however. She had heard that they planned to move the architectural archive to a warehouse with a tiny office, but that was only because the bequest could afford it; as for the library itself, its future was grim.
At last the line dwindled and it was just Ingrid and Matt again. The silence between them was going to drive her mad, so she decided to take action.
“Let’s see what’s keeping her,” she told him, as she finished tidying up the main desk. She walked briskly to the back office, where Caitlin was sitting at her desk, pursing her lips and surveying her reflection in her compact mirror.
“You know Matt is here, don’t you?” Ingrid asked.
“I know, I’m so late.” Caitlin sighed, snapping the compact shut. “He doesn’t mind, of course, but I hate to make him wait. You know he’s a stickler for time! Always so prompt; he makes me look so bad. I guess it’s just part of his personality. Did you know his father was captain of the force before he retired? And his grandfather, too. Runs in the family—isn’t that sweet?” It was as if the girl had developed a personality overnight. Suddenly she was a chatterbox; you couldn’t shut her up. The staff was well-informed of her dear Matthew’s eating habits (he took most of his meals at the diner by the highway), political views (like Ingrid, he didn’t vote for the current mayor), and ex-girlfriends (not many). Ingrid was finding it increasingly difficult to refrain from hexing her. All it would take was thirteen black candles and a pentagram and that silly girl wouldn’t know why she was breaking out in boils.
Ingrid would prefer not to know so much about Matt Noble. Especially since the picture Caitlin painted was of a simple, honest, hardworking guy, someone she couldn’t help but respect and admire, if only from afar.
“Do you think this looks right, Hudson?” Caitlin asked, fretting about her outfit, a white linen dress that showed a hint of her tanned cleavage.
Hudson arched an eyebrow. “Considering I helped you pick it out, I think it’s fabulous.”
“You look great,” Tabitha agreed, looking on enviously. She wasn’t showing yet, except for a slight puffiness in her cheeks and the requisite bout of morning sickness. “Where is he taking you, again?”
“To the outdoor opera, you know, by the beach? I can’t remember which one.”
“It’s Wagner, the Ring cycle,” Ingrid said icily. She had made plans to see it as well. The North Hampton orchestra performed an abridged instrumental version every year over the Fourth of July holiday, with a fireworks show at the end. Ingrid had been planning to attend with her family, but Freya had canceled on her at the last minute, and Joanna had begged off the yearly tradition, saying she really didn’t feel up to all the Sturm und Drang this summer. Ingrid had decided to skip it, as she didn’t feel like attending the opera alone.
“Hold on,” Hudson said and tightened the belt around Caitlin’s waist to further exaggerate the dress’s hourglass silhouette. “That’s better.” He nodded approvingly. The traitor was Caitlin’s new best friend, Ingrid lamented. Hudson had the soul of a thirteen-year-old girl. He couldn’t help but swoon at a new love affair. It certainly beat recapping last night’s reality shows.
Caitlin blushed and giggled, and Ingrid tried not to listen, telling herself that she was not jealous, she was not jealous! If only there was something she could do to stop feeling the way she did. She could help other women with their problems and yet she couldn’t seem to fix her own. Freya would tell her to take one of her love potions and steal him away. But Ingrid didn’t want that. She didn’t want him to like her due to some magic trickery. Not that she liked him, anyway. Right? It was getting harder and harder to fool herself into indifference. She liked Matt Noble, and it wasn’t just because he was now out of reach. Ingrid did not suffer from the affliction of loving men she could not have. To be honest, she had never loved any man, not one in her long life. She preferred her own company. So this infatuation with Matt came at just the wrong time. She thought he liked her, and so it had piqued her interest. She had been wrong about his attraction, but now she could not seem to do anything about her feelings.
Hudson whispered something in Caitlin’s ear that made the girl blush furiously, making her look even prettier than she already was. “Well, if you really want to know,” she said, and Ingrid could not help but overhear, “tonight’s his lucky night!”
“Lucky night for what?” Tabitha asked. “Oh! Oh!” she said, as she realized what Hudson and Caitlin were talking about and giggled naughtily.
“We’ve been seeing each other for two weeks now and I think it’s time,” Caitlin said primly.
“Is that some sort of rule I’m not aware of?” Hudson asked. “The two-week shag?” He turned to Ingrid and Tabitha expectantly.
“Not for me,” Tabitha chortled. “Chad was a one-night stand.”
“Tab, you slut,” Hudson teased. “A one-night stand that lasted fifteen years, huh?”
“I guess so.” She smiled.
“What about you, Ingrid?”
Ingrid crossed her arms. Some days she really did feel like the world’s oldest virgin. “A lady never tells.” She shook her head at her colleagues and excused herself to the restroom. Caitlin followed her.
At the washbasins, Caitlin suddenly blurted, “I swear, it’s so weird—the whole time I was sure he was always here to see you.” She ran the tap and washed her hands. “He asked about you constantly.”
Ingrid looked up with a start. “Really?”
“Yeah. What kind of books you liked to read. What kind of work you did with those drawings. I thought he had a crush on you . . .” Caitlin pressed her lips together tightly to blot her lipstick. “But it turns out he kept talking about you because he was so nervous because he was talking to me! Isn’t that funny?”
Hilarious. Ingrid slammed the bathroom door and went back out to the main desk. The detective, the subject of all the gossip in the backroom, looked up from the book he was reading. He placed the book on the table. J. J. Ramsey Baker’s opus, the thousand-page doorstop that Ingrid could not get anyone to borrow and read.
“Did you like it?” she asked sweetly.
Matt Noble thought for a moment. “It was . . . interesting but not really my sort of thing.”
“What kind of books do you like, then?” Ingrid asked a bit defensively.
“I don’t know . . .” He shrugged. She was right, she thought, pleased. He wasn’t much of a reader, just a library lurker. He was probably one of those weirdos who liked to nap in the carrels.
“Well, what’s your favorite book?” she asked, feeling confident that he would not be able to name one, or if he did, it would be something like . . .
“To Kill a Mockingbird.”
“Really?” Ingrid asked, taken off guard. “That’s my favorite book, too.” But was he just saying that? Or was it something Caitlin had told him? But when did she ever discuss Mockingbird with Caitlin? Caitlin didn’t like to read. She spent her free time updating her online profile’s status.
“Really.” Matt smiled, and for a moment he looked a little like Atticus Finch, or maybe Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch, if Gregory Peck had light brown hair and freckles and blue eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, and it looked as if he were going to say something more when Caitlin finally appeared, looking radiant in her white dress. “Matthew!”
He turned away from Ingrid and kissed Caitlin on the cheek while the two of them embraced. It was only then that Ingrid saw he was holding a picnic basket, a bottle of wine and a baguette poking out of the side.
Tabitha and Hudson followed behind. “All clear, boss lady,” Tabitha said, meaning the library was empty. Ingrid turned off the main lights and set the alarm, and the group walked out of the building together. It was warm but breezy, and the night glowed; it would be light until late. A perfect summer evening for listening to music. Ingrid felt a pang.
“Hey, you want a ride to the concert?” Caitlin asked as Ingrid made her way to her bicycle. “Ingrid goes every year with her family,” she explained to her date.
“No, it’s okay—they can’t make it this year. I think I should just go home,” Ingrid said, as Tabitha waved good-bye.
“Oh, well, come with us then!” Caitlin offered.
“I couldn’t . . . I don’t want to crash . . .” Ingrid said, her cheeks beginning to burn again; if this kept up she would get a tan. If there was one thing she did not want to do, it was become a third wheel on a romantic date.
But for some reason Caitlin would not take no for an answer. “Not at all. Matt won’t mind. Right, Matt?” He shook his head and smiled at Ingrid. “Not at all. Join us, please. I packed enough cheese to feed a cow.”
Hudson unlocked his bike and began to wheel it away when Caitlin pounced on him as well. “We could make it a foursome! Hudson, come to the opera with me and Matt and Ingrid—she needs a date!” There seemed to be no dissuading Caitlin, and Ingrid felt helpless to resist.
Hudson looked at Ingrid questioningly. He had offered to take her that morning when she mentioned that her family had bailed, but she had declined, and Ingrid hoped her friend would not mention it. Thankfully, Hudson rose to the occasion. “Wagner’s so dreary. I prefer Puccini. But sure.”
The orchestra had set up on a small stage in a grassy field a few miles from the beach. There was already a huge crowd waiting. They found an empty spot between two groups of opera devotees who were toasting the evening with wine in plastic glasses, balloons bobbing in the air as signposts to pinpoint their location for stragglers or lest anyone get lost on the way back from the restrooms. The sun began to set over the horizon, bathing the scene in a warm, orange light, and then the music began to play. It made for a very pretty scene, but Ingrid could not find any beauty in it.
Caitlin snuggled next to Matt the entire evening, and when the two of them weren’t nuzzling they were kissing. Ingrid thought she might burn all her Wagner records by the end of the night; she felt sick to her stomach. Her wonderful library was going to be razed to make room for condominiums, and the guy she liked had ended up with someone else. She promised herself she would get over Matt Noble somehow. Even if she had to take one of Freya’s bitter-tasting antidotes to do so.